Chapter 120 Pier 19 Betrayal

• Midnight. Pier 19.
• The air hung heavy with tension at the warehouse—every breath tainted with the sweet, metallic stench of premium cocaine and bitter anticipation. Ramirez's footsteps echoed through the concrete maze that had made him Chicago's most feared supplier. The dim fluorescent lights cast an eerie glow over endless rows of perfectly stacked crates, each one worth more than what most people made in a lifetime.
• "Che cazzo," Ramirez muttered under his breath, checking his Rolex for the third time. Thirty-six years of running Chicago's largest distribution network had taught him that waiting meant weakness, and weakness meant death.